


Delicacies

by verybadhedgehog



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food, Hux and Ren Eat Things, Italian Food, M/M, Megalomania, Some Humor, antipasti, picnicking like Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6646891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verybadhedgehog/pseuds/verybadhedgehog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt, "The First Order is in exile, rations are strictly controlled. Hux has always eaten the same foods as the troops to show solidarity. Kylo brings him a treat back from one of his solo missions."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicacies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GallifreyanOmnishambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/gifts).



> content notes: reference to violence, reference to nausea, reference to sexual activity

“Are we to be made privy to the contents of the box, Knight Commander?”

“Are we? We, Admiral Herdost? We as in the command briefing group, we as in the First Order as an organisation, or we as in any group to which you, Admiral Rinne Herdost, belong? You should distinguish between operational matters and your own personal curiosity.”

“I only meant, sir…” Admiral Herdost’s voice faltered, and they became painfully aware of the light reflecting off the silver bands of Kylo Ren’s mask. Each glint of light was brighter than it had any right to be. The Admiral also felt a blow to the ankle, where Lieutenant General Govelin had delivered a sharp kick.

“Nothing at all, sir.”

“The box,” said Kylo Ren, placing a large protective hand upon it, “contains items of a very highly classified nature.” He turned his head to look up and down the table. “I will take a private debriefing meeting with General Hux to discuss them.”

Eyes around the table turned to look at General Hux, in an attempt to read something from his face. They met nothing but faint disapproval tinged with puzzlement that professional military colleagues should be so curious.

“Meeting dismissed, return to your scheduled duties,” he nodded, curtly.

Lt General Govelin lingered. 

Hux sighed and allowed himself half a smile. “Sod off, Govelin, you insufferable little creep. We have worlds to conquer. Have you spoken with Phasma about troop deployment for next month’s big push?”

“Not yet, sir”

“There would be no finer time than now, would there? It’s 1751h – I would estimate she would be on her rounds, on deck 12 or 13 at this hour, working up an appetite. Jog along and you’ll catch her.”

Govelin saluted crisply and left.

Kylo Ren stood with the box clutched to his broad chest. He was making sure to keep it upright.

“General Hux.”

“Yes, Ren?”

“Does 2030h suit?”

“I could make myself available.”

“Good. I suggest, General, that you do not eat heavily this evening. Given the nature of the contents of this box.”

“Noted.”

Kylo Ren took his box and stalked away in a flurry of black cloth and overstated presence.

 _Oh good_ , thought Hux. _He’s brought me a severed head. He must surely know how much I dislike severed heads. The looks on their faces are invariably underwhelming._

In the mess, Hux prodded at his food. Even without the possibility of being made to seem enthusiastic about some mutilated body parts or, worse, Sith artifacts, the food was not appetising. Nutrition factories did the best they could, he was sure, but there were only so many resource-bearing planets and only so much food resource to go around. Bean-derived protein in rectangular blocks was often as good as it got for the troops. Good as it got for the stormtroopers meant good as it got for the General, too. Out of solidarity with their troops, Hux and Phasma elected to forgo the slightly better food available to officers, and ate the same food as the foot soldiers. At every dinner, they picked up a Tray A (enlisted) rather than a Tray B (officers) or a Tray B1 (senior officers) 

Officers food rations were only slightly better, as Hux could see from observing his companions tucking into the greyish sausage and mash of the day’s Tray B1 offering. 

***

Hux sat at his desk and reviewed outline plans for the conquest of the Jagath system. This was Lt General Govelin’s big project, and his chance to shine. There were some small causes for concern which spoke to either insufficient research or unsatisfactory skills in report writing. Hux knew Govelin to be capable of better, and he would drop some pointed hints to encourage the man to step up the pace and fill in the gaps.

The control panel on the desk indicated someone was at the door. It was 2033h, which made Ren only slightly late. Hux made a note to check the most up to date intel on the Jagath system, and tapped the control panel to open the door. He swivelled around in his chair to face the door as Ren entered, in order to look busy, yet poised and expectant. Hux liked to think he was particularly good at looking poised.

Between the desk and the door was a long table with bench seating on either side. Kylo Ren reached the table in three steps, a more measured pace than his usual two, and placed the box on the table. Hux could hear a dull clinking from within the box, as if there were something heavy made of glass inside. Probably not severed heads in that case. So, Sith artefacts, then. Nausea, headaches, and listening to a lengthy discourse on the Dark Side Of The Force, none of which would be conducive to either relaxation or productive work. The nausea and headaches would certainly preclude the kind of “relaxation” that Hux always hoped for when Ren returned from a mission. He did notice, though, that Ren had washed and put on a new set of clothes. He had, though Hux hadn’t mentioned it, bloody well stunk when he returned from the planet. 

Kylo unclipped his helmet and removed it, setting it down beside the box. He peeled off his gloves and did the same with them.

“So, General, did you hold back at the feeding trough, as suggested?”

“Yes,” replied Hux, keeping the “of course,” silent.

“Good.” Kylo bent over the box and undid a clasp on the side. He was smiling, and glancing at Hux from behind a curtain of hair. Perhaps it would be a relaxing evening after all.

The lid of the box was removed and placed almost ceremoniously next to Ren’s helmet. Hux swore he could smell food. Or something like food. Something good.  

“I brought you something,” said Kylo. “Something I thought you would like.” He reached in to the box, and took out a jar. And another jar. And something wrapped in paper. And a bottle, a bottle of hell-damned sparkling wine by the look of it.

“Where in all the stars did you get that?”

“A shop.”

“A shop?! What do you mean, a shop? You don’t just go into shops when you’re on missions. Is this a frequent occurrence? I don’t recall Phasma asking for an expenses account. Or did you burn the place down and take what you wanted?”

“No, General, I did not. I went in to the shop, with a small detail of stormtroopers, asked for what I wanted, and paid with actual money.”

“Where did you get ‘actual money’ from? On second thoughts, please don’t answer that.”

“I will admit that the shopkeeper was… somewhat perturbed by our appearance. He brightened at the sight of the fistful of credits I offered him. The language of money is almost as eloquent as the language of violence.”

“On the topic at hand, please, Ren, is that…” Hux stood up and reached for the bottle, drawn to it by disbelieving curiosity as strongly as if by manipulation of the Force itself. “It is! Techello, and the proper bloody stuff by the look of it. This is hard to get hold of, for us.”

“Only the best, for you.”

“I can’t accept this. This is excess. Frivolity.”

“I will show you everything I have brought for you. Then you can decide whether to accept or reject the gift which I am freely offering to you.”

Kylo glared. Hux reconsidered.

“Alright. I will look at everything.”

“Do you have a plate? Some of these things would be better arranged on a plate.”

“In the locker next to the water dispenser.”

Kylo opened the locker and took out two plates and two duraplex drinking glasses.

“Rinse those plates under hot water. There is a clean cloth in the locker.”

“Of course. Sir.” Kylo did as instructed, rinsing the plates into a tiny sink below Hux’s hot and cold water dispenser, then made great show of holding up the two drinking glasses to the light, to see that they were clean. “Best rinse and wipe these, too.” He rinsed them under hot water from the water dispenser, and wiped them with the cloth.

“We don’t want them to be hot, though, do we?”

“If you take hold of them in your hands, they’ll soon be cold as the void.” Kylo laced his words with mock portent, and Hux bit back a grin.

“The wine, Ren. It hasn’t been in a conservator.”

“My dear General of such little faith.” Ren sat at the table, clasped one huge hand about the wine bottle, placed the other on his helmet, and furrowed his brow. 

_Of course. Of course of course. The Force._

Hux still marvelled a little every time Ren used the Force in his presence. He didn’t pretend to understand it, and for military purposes he far preferred good old fashioned troops and strategy, paired with modern technology. But he marvelled to see it used at close quarters. Before his eyes, condensation beaded on the glass of the wine bottle.

“Feel it,” Ren commanded. “Cold.”

He did. It was.

“And the glasses?” 

Hux had actually had them in his hands, and they were colder than when he had taken hold of them.

“Well done. My little ball of ice and fury. If you want to warm your hands further, hold them near my helmet. You will find it hot.”

Hux jiggled his leg below the table in anticipation. He could have made another protestation about not being able to accept these frivolous and unnecessary gifts, but he felt the time had passed for that. And, there was Techello wine! Real proper Techello wine, and things in jars and something wrapped in paper that smelled good. 

“I am going to try not to spill any of this when I open it. If any does spill, I can keep it off the table, but it will need to be mopped up at some point.”

“I am no stranger to mopping up the messes you make in here, Ren.” A smile lurched gaily across Hux’s face. “I shall get a spare towel.”

When he came back with the towel, Ren had arranged his plates, his glasses, his jars and his paper packages into something approaching order.

“Before we start, I should ask. Is there anything you are allergic to. Anything you cannot eat?”

“Not that I know of.”

“I have something here that is made from fish. Some people cannot eat fish. And there is cheese. Some people have an issue with,” he tapped his fingers on the table, trying to remember, “vasoactive amines. As are found in hard cheese, preserved meat, and some wines. Shit. I hope you’re not susceptible in that way.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. But we can check my med file if you like.”

Hux went to his desk and tapped on his work console. Ren leant in behind him.

“You shouldn’t look over my shoulder when I put in my credentials.”

“Hux, if I wanted them badly enough, I could get them from your mind. I know I’m not supposed to, but if I wanted them badly enough…”

“Yes, I know what a dreadful creature you are.”

Hux navigated to his med file. 

Hux, D.B.M (General). Previous illnesses: Yelthan fever age 8 (no major sequelae). Known allergies: flower pollen, grass pollen.

“There, you see. Good job we aren’t doing this in a flower meadow, isn’t it?”

Ren sat back at the table, and Hux followed. “Good. That’s good. Ready?” Ren asked.

At Hux’s affirmative, he untwisted the coronet of wire that held the cork in place, and set it on the table with a gentle clink. He held the cork, and twisted the bottle beneath it. With a muted pop, the bottle gave up its secrets, gushing forth thick frothing promises into the glasses that Ren quickly grabbed and held in place under the flow. The foam died back quickly, revealing the glasses to be not nearly so full as they first appeared, even as gobbets of overflow hovered over the table. Ren topped them up and offered one to Hux. The other, he held out towards him for a toast.

“To victories,” Ren offered, with his eyes bright.

They clinked their glasses together and drank.

Hux held the liquid in his mouth, savouring the bubbles on his tongue, lively and boisterous.

“This is splendid! Ren, this is absolutely delicious.”

“I doubt whether you’ve actually had the genuine stuff before,” he said, dabbing up the spilled droplets with Hux’s spare towel.

It was quite possible that suppliers were cheating the First Order. That was something that would have to be dealt with. At another time. Quite another time.

“To the First Order.”

“To the First Order,” Ren replied, clinking his glass against Hux’s and drinking again. He looked quite splendid with the glass in his hand, even though it was only a simple squat drinking glass rather than the fine stemmed glasses one would normally drink such wine from at the very rare official functions at which it was served. There was something quietly regal about his long elegant face. At times he could look awkward, at others brooding, but now he was simply striking. Beautiful, indeed.

“To us,” Hux offered.

“To us.” Their eyes met, and Hux felt almost shy. Bubbles leapt on his tongue, and he allowed himself a genuine feeling of excitement and delight, a feeling of being close to something hoped-for.

“Spoon?” Ren asked. “Knife?”

“Spoon in the same place as the plates. There is a compartment for cutlery, you’ll find what you need there.”

“Knife for cutting,” Ren said, having found most of what he needed but not all.

Hux reached into his sleeve and pulled from its concealed sheath, a small dirk. Ren tilted his head and smiled.

“That’s what I meant.”

Hux placed the knife on the table and looked at it fondly. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for that little blade.”   

Ren opened one of the jars. “I think I’ll start you off with these. The least likely to overload your poor deprived palate.” With a spoon, he lifted out a curious fawnish-green shape from some sort of oily liquid. With a table knife, he cut it into pieces and deposited one on Hux’s plate, and then offered him a fork. “Go on.”

The item was some variety of vegetable, preserved under oil. It had a savoury, grassy taste. 

Ren placed some flat dry breads on each plate. “You can eat some of the things on those.”

Hux watched him unwrap one of the paper packages. Inside were very thin slices of meat with a strong aroma. On the plate, they were translucent. Ren picked one up with a fork, bundling and folding it up as he went. He closed his eyes in pleasure as he ate. 

“Very good. Try it, Hux, try it.”

The meat was salty, but also deeply flavoured and slightly sweet. The rim of fat at the edge melted into Hux’s mouth. He didn’t know if his concepts of pleasure were getting confused with one another, but he would almost have said that there was something curiously erotic about the taste, or at least the smell. It was reminiscent of the human body in a certain state of arousal. Or even after… activities had been indulged in.

“It is, though, isn’t it?” murmured Ren. Hux had the awful feeling that he was probably blushing, and Ren was probably looking at him blushing.

Another package came forth, this time with a triangular wedge of hard cheese. Ren cut thin slices from it with Hux’s little stabby knife.

“Wait this time, there’s something to go with it,” and from the box he took what appeared to be a ball of cloth. He unwrapped it to reveal a roundish pale green fruit.

Hux didn’t see many fruit in his day to day life. He saw juice from ultra-concentrate, and he saw, on officers’ dinner trays, mixed fruit mash, which was highly preserved and came in large durasteel vats. He did not see pale green fruit with skin and stalks.

“Is that a… pear?”

“It is. Greatly favoured by Vader,” Ren said, with a reverence that Hux found rather fetching. He wiped Hux’s knife, and sliced the pear. “Have a slice of pear and a slice of cheese at the same time. That’s how it’s done.”

General Hux had never imagined that he would be taking etiquette lessons from Kylo Ren, but there was a first time for everything. He took the pear and cheese in combination. Delicious. It was an extremely good recommendation. 

“This, Hux, is the thing made of fish.” Kylo Ren took a small clear duraplast box and clicked open the lid. Inside were two pale matte shapes, like dead men’s fingers. “It’s salted fish roe,” he said, spreading some on one for the little dry breads and passing it to Hux.

Hux took a bite. It was salty and fishy but not too unpleasant. He washed it down with a mouthful of sparkling wine.

“Roe?”

“From the male fish. Essentially,” Ren said, smirking, “it’s solidified fish come.”

“You disgusting man!”

“You like it?”

“No! Well, it’s alright, I suppose. You disgusting man.”

“You like the, um…” Kylo raised a lascivious eyebrow.

“You utterly, deeply, disgusting man. That is not a complaint; it is a statement of fact.” 

Hux took another sip of wine. It did not help his blushes.

“If you liked the ham, I think you would like this.” Ren unwrapped a third paper package. “It’s a cured sausage, sliced. I also bought a small whole one that we can keep for later days”

“Ren, really, this is too much. I shouldn’t have this all to myself.”

“You aren’t having it all to yourself. You’re sharing it with me.”

“Don’t be deliberately obtuse.”

Ren ate a piece of salami. He rested his chin on his hands and looked at Hux, blinking but not shifting his gaze. “You don’t need to deny yourself.”

“I choose to.”

“One day, we will have everything. We will take every system, and give them the peace and order they need. We will have everything. The systems that produce all this food will be ours. You will be able to have any of this, whenever you want.”

“That’s in the future. Today, we plan and we fight. Tomorrow we celebrate.” Hux looked sadly at the food and the wine.

“My General, you can allow yourself a taste of these things. Allow yourself something to look forward to, something to hunger for.”

“I suppose.”

“Allow yourself pleasure.” Ren filled Hux’s glass with sparkling wine again. He opened another jar and forked out some pieces of cut up vegetable. “In vinegar. It’s nice with the salami. Allow yourself. Think of the future.”

The pickled vegetables were crisp and sour. They did go very nicely with the slices of salami.

Yet another jar was opened. The table was beginning to lose its sense of order. “Put the lids back on the ones you’ve finished with. Or at least tidy them up a little.” Hux took it upon himself to tidy them up a little anyway. “Someone is always tidying up after you,” he said, fondly.

The jar contained a thick red paste, which Ren spread on a broken off piece of dry bread. He ate it with relish, so Hux spread his own portion on a second fragment of bread. It was meaty and spicy, and actually far too spicy. 

“Shit!” said Hux, taking a large drink of wine, which did not help at all, as the bubbles of the wine assaulted his spice-punished tongue.

Ren, the great bastard, laughed. “It isn’t hot! Spicy, maybe. Warm. But not hot.”

“It’s bloody hot to me. I’m not used to it.”

“Don’t ever let me give you Wookiee food, in that case. Or at least, I should work up to it very gradually.” Ren spread another large smudge of the red paste onto his bread. “More for me.” He chased it with another piece of preserved artichoke. Hux did the same. The relatively bland flavour of the artichoke was a good antidote to the hot meat paste.

Ren leant towards Hux, and pressed a hand over his. “Apart from the pepper sausage paste, are you enjoying the food?”

“Yes, very much. Thank you.”

Ren squeezed his hand. “I wanted you to have something nice. Such that, you could enjoy the bounty of the galaxy, or at least of a very little part of it, in the style of the Naboo people who were my foremothers.”

“I am honoured. Truly.” Kylo Ren very rarely mentioned any ancestors other than Lord Vader. Hux gathered that Lord Vader, in his youth, might have shared such a selection of delicacies with the Naboo Queen who had been Ren’s grandmother. He bit his lip and sighed internally. No wonder he thought of Ren as looking regal earlier. He was in some way born to all this.

“I still feel, though, that it ill befits me in some way. As a military man.”

“Come with me and stand by the viewport. Bring your drink. Bring a morsel if you like”

Hux followed Kylo to the large viewport and they stood together and looked out at the wild beauty of space: stars, near and distant, bright and dim; rioting nebulae, red, purple and turquoise.

“See there. The Hevant system. Already belongs to the Order. That bluish star to the left is Kellas, which has yet to align itself with us. Wonderful food on Kellas II. Fresh herbs and red wine. I think you’d like it. And one day you will taste it.” Ren’s hand found the small of Hux’s back, and the General leant into his shoulder.

“I see. I do see.”

“I see your wishes. Your hopes. I understand. Let me show you something.” His voice was soft and low as he leant closer so that their heads touched. “It’s safe. Everything we share is safe.”

Hux felt a pressure wave of the Force pass through his head.

_It’s OK. Just let me._

_Of course._

_It’s safe._

Hux saw himself, as if standing outside his body and at the same time as if from his own eyes, like a curious dream. He was standing on a balcony, with a sea of people below, cheering and waving flags. One flag was the First Order banner, but he did not recognise the other. His clothes were different: a jacket with a thick satin belt tied with a silk cord, layers of silk shirts visible at his neck, a fine pair of boots on his feet, far finer than even his own beautifully shiny officer’s boots. Beside him stood Kylo, dressed as usual but for flashes of a deep red silk lining visible as his surcoat caught in the wind. 

_The people love their Emperor._

In the vision, Hux raised an elegant crystal glass to his lips and sipped from it.

_The finest Techello wine._

_I see your wishes and hopes. I share them. They are safe with me._

The vision broke and faded.

Hux looked at Ren. His eyes were warm. He raised his glass and repeated his toast. 

“To us.”

“To us.”


End file.
